


Flesh for Fantasy

by bev_crusher1971



Series: Flesh for Fantasy [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Post-Coital Cuddling, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bev_crusher1971/pseuds/bev_crusher1971
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight he needed a man. Not a boy, a man. He needed someone who wanted to go down but would still manage to stay himself. Someone to really have fun with. Who would playfully fight him before giving in. Someone like … his eyes narrowed, and a smile crept over his face. Oh yeah, someone like Deputy ...what was his name? Parrish, right. </p><p>Peter Hale is looking for a nice evening, and he finds Deputy Parrish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh for Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Flesh For Fantasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042988) by [Uki96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uki96/pseuds/Uki96)



> BIG THANKS to Simone. *cuddlehugs*
> 
> She's not only responsible for the bunny per se, she also pointed out some mistakes that I could correct so it's thanks to her that reading is now so much smoother. 
> 
> The title is from the Billy Idol song "Flash for Fantasy".

There was something about Peter Hale, Deputy Parrish thought. Something dark. And dangerous. 

And something damn sexy. He licked his lips as he watched him walk by, talking to his nephew, Derek Hale. That man radiated authority. And dominance. Peter Hale made Jordan Parrish want to drop to his knees and beg for whatever he wanted to give him. 

Ever since he had started to experiment with his sexuality, Jordan Parrish had discovered that he liked to submit to his partner. He loved the feeling of someone else taking the control. Of someone caring enough for him to do this to and with him. It had always made him feel special. And the older he got, the more he longed for this kind of relationship. Maybe it was his background. The fact that he had been trained as part of a "Hazardous Device Team" that had him dealing with bombs and explosive materials. Having so much responsibility made him yearn for someone else to tell him what to do every once in a while. 

Sure, there had been the occasional partner who had been shocked when he had dropped to his knees. 

He remembered Daniel who had even been disgusted when Jordan had handed him over his collar, his eyes shining with love and expectation. His sneered, “Gosh, you're a freak!” had hurt him deeply, had crushed him back then. 

And there had been the rare 'bad choice' of a dom. Some who had treated him badly. Who had thought because he submitted, he wanted to be treated like trash. Bad names, heavy bruisings, and that one time where he had been unable to go to work the next few days because wow … *that* dom really knew how to *not* use a cane. It had taken him some days to heal, and for a while he had been very skittish around doms he didn't know. 

But he had grown since then. Had learned to choose his partners more carefully. And when the need to drop down, to submit himself completely, became too strong he went to one of the many clubs he frequented. 

Now he was standing at the window of the Sheriff's office, and watched Peter Hale walk by. And he could feel his knees begin to tremble. 

A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder, and for a moment Jordan had to tighten his grip on the window frame to stay upright. 

“You okay, Deputy?” came the gruff voice of the Sheriff. And oh, that was so not fair. As if it wasn't bad enough that the Sheriff looked amazing for his age – and yes, he had a thing for older man, so what? - he also had this incredible voice, deep and rich and caring and Jordan simply wanted to kneel at this man's feet and worship him. 

“Yeah, sure,” he managed, and while one part of him hoped that the Sheriff would leave really quick, there still was the other part of him that wanted him to press down just that little bit harder on his shoulder until his knees hit the floor. 

A little squeeze, a murmured, “Okay,” and then he was gone. His shoulder felt cold all of a sudden, and he took a deep shuddering breath. 

Time to hit the dance floor tonight. And maybe find some dom to play with. 

~*~

Peter Hale scanned the dance floor. He knew exactly what he was looking for and as for now, he hadn't found it. He waved away a sweet young thing that would have just loved to throw herself at his feet, and happily serve him for the rest of the night. But it wasn't what he wanted. Not what he needed. He wanted someone with a mind of his own, not some stupid plaything. Although that could be fun, too, his cock reminded him, and his brain helpfully delivered pictures from a lovely young girl with dark hair and blue eyes that had given him the best blow job ever while looking up at him with pure adoration in her gaze

Tonight he needed a man. Not a boy, a man. He needed someone who wanted to go down but would still manage to stay himself. Someone to really have fun with. Who would playfully fight him before giving in. Someone like … his eyes narrowed, and a smile crept over his face. Oh yeah, someone like Deputy ...what was his name? Parrish, right. No first name, Peter had never cared for him enough to ever ask but had of course noticed all the looks that man had cast in his direction. Subtlety was not one of the Deputy's strongest suits. Slowly, he began to move. He made his way through grinding bodies, got groped a time or two, and when he was right behind Parrish he stopped. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to make the other man aware of him. Parrish dance-turned around, saw him, and for a moment there was pure shock in the other man's eyes. Eyes that dropped immediately to the floor. But he gazed up at him through his lashes and Peter's smile turned feral. Oh yes, this was going to be fun. He moved closer, well into the Deputy's personal space, leaned over and murmured softly into his ear, “Your safe word, boy?”

A shiver ran over the Deputy's body, and Peter was close enough to feel it. His inner wolf howled in pleasure. 

“Seagull, Sir,” he replied without hesitation, and Peter grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him from the dance floor. 

~*~

This had to be a dream, Jordan thought, as he followed, no – got dragged by Peter fucking Hale from the dance floor to a secluded spot in a corner. He watched his ass in those extremely tight black jeans, saw the way the muscles moved under his silken black shirt, and wanted nothing more than to see it gone. Wanted skin. Wanted … that moment they reached their goal, and Hale pushed him into the corner but kept him upright, pressed him with his whole body against the walls, and Jordan groaned with how good that felt. 

“Tell me, Deputy,” Hale murmured, while he gently touched his skin with his lips, “what is your first name?” A quick bite, soft but a promise of what might be coming. Jordan's knees began to shake. “Or what do you want me to call you?”

His mind was blank for a moment. Then there were a million thoughts all at once. No dom had ever asked him before what he wanted to be called. And he had been called a lot of things. Some nice, some not so nice, some downright mean. Fucktoy. Whore. Boytoy. Baby. Slut. Sometimes it amazed him how people could come up with so many degrading names. But there had always been one that he liked to be called. A name that gave him the feeling of belonging. 

It was the simple term 'boy'. 

Another bite brought him back to the here and now. “I asked you a question, Deputy,” Hale growled into his ear, “and I don't like to be kept waiting. And don't give me that crap about picking a name. This isn't just about me. It's about me *and* you. I want you to feel comfortable. So tell me,” bite “what to” bite “call you!” Sharper bite, this time with a lot more teeth, and Jordan gasped out, “Boy, Sir. I love to be called boy.”

A sound close to purring came from Hale when he moved back a little. “See, boy, that wasn't so hard now, right?”

Jordan shook his head, “No, Sir.”

“Speaking of hard, boy,” Hale continued, and there it was, the strong hand on his shoulder, slowly urging him down to his knees, and with a sigh, Jordan dropped down. A hand under his chin had him lift his head. He looked directly into Hale's blue eyes. “Tell me what you want, boy.”

Again the chance to word his own desires. But would Hale listen? Would he take it even seriously? A little slap to the back of his head made him wince. “Listen, boy, and listen good, for I'm only saying it once!” Hale's voice sounded stern and hard. “You listening?”

Jordan nodded. 

“Good. When I ask you a question I expect an immediate and honest answer. I don't like to wait. And I like even less to be compared to all the other doms who ever played with you. You will realize that I'm nothing like them!”

Jordan began to tremble slightly. 

“Do you understand that?” 

Jordan nodded again, and whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

A strong hand ruffled his hair. “Good boy. Now let's try this again. Tell me what you want!”

The answer came without hesitation this time. “I want to suck you, Sir, please. Please, may I?”

Again the half purring, half growling sound. “Good boy. And yes. Yes, you may.”

Jordan raised his hands, and was surprised to see them tremble. Quickly, he opened the black jeans in front of him and moaned in pleasure when he saw that Peter Hale had decided to go commando tonight. He took hold of the half-hard cock, pulled it out, stroked it a few times, and finally, finally he took it into his mouth. 

It was heaven. The hands that held his head were strong but not brutal, the thrusts from his dom were lazy not urgent, not forcing just guiding. Closing his eyes, he simply enjoyed it, when suddenly the cock was gone from his mouth. Irritated, he opened his eyes again, and looked up at Hale. He was smiling but there was a shark-like quality to it now. 

“Did I tell you to dream, boy? Did I tell you that you can close your eyes and think of someone else while you're on your knees in front of me?”

For a second, Jordan was stunned into silence. A growl came from above, and hastily he added, “I didn't! Sir, Master, please, I didn't think about someone else. I closed my eyes because I couldn't believe that you really chose me tonight,” and a little quieter, “please, Sir, don't hurt me.” 

~*~

Hurt him? 

Peter was surprised. And then angry. Okay, yes, he was not the most loveable of all persons in Beacon Hills. Maybe not even in the whole county. And he maybe killed his niece, and … okay, yes, he *did* kill his niece but that was something personal between him and her. 

The fact that he turned Kate Argent into a bloodthirsty were-whatever … well, if one was a nitpicker, they might blame that on him. 

Scott being a werewolf … yes, that he did. And looking at the kid now, in a way he was proud of himself. 

And there had been the fatalities that had happened when he had been on that little hunting spree as Alpha. Maybe he might have lost it a bit every now and then. But to his defense he had to say that he hadn't been quite himself at that time. 

But never ever could someone accuse him of being a bad dom to his chosen sub. And there was the other question: who had this man played with that a simple 'No!' caused such a reaction? 

Realizing that this little inner monologue had effectively killed his arousal, he packed himself back into his trousers, and gripped his boy's elbow. “Come on,” he said, and even over the loud beating of the music he managed to sound gentle, “I think we have to talk before we play. Set a few ground rules, and such.”

He led the Deputy away from the masses of people, away from the dance floor, through a door to a big hallway where he knew the rooms were. Rooms for people who loved to play in private. Who didn't want to perform in front of big audience. He always got a key for a room, just in case. 

Normally, Peter loved the audience. Loved to feel the looks on his skin when he played with his sub. But tonight – and this special sub – was different. Something had happened to Parrish, and he needed to know how far he could go before they continued. 

It was one thing to kill people when you're out of your mind, it was quite another to hurt someone who hadn't done anything wrong and gave himself willingly into your hands. 

Parrish was walking next to him, eyes to the floor, looking for all the world like a scolded little boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Peter pushed him in the room, and locked the door behind them. 

For a moment he rested his head against the wooden door. All he had wanted for tonight had been some fun. And now? Now he was here in a room with a beautiful, hot sub, playing therapist. SO not how he had imagined this night would go. 

Then he turned around. 

And swallowed. 

The room was no different from all the others one could rent here at the club. A St. Andrew's cross dominated one wall while a big California King bed dominated the other. Between those two were toys, benches, a board, and a door in a corner that lead to an en-suite bathroom. 

But what made him swallow was the sight that greeted him in turning around. Unbeknownst by him, Parrish had started to undress. Peter watched him as he was folding his clothes neatly over a nearby chair, and then knelt down before the bed, with his front to him. He knelt in the perfect submissive posture, with his eyes downcast, his hands on his thighs, palms up, back slightly arched. And Peter could feel his mouth go dry. 

Oh, the things he wanted to do to that sub. He could feel himself harden again. 

But first things first. They had to set the ground rules before he would lay hands on his boy. 

He crossed the room, and sat down on the bed. Parrish didn't move a muscle. With a sigh, Peter patted his leg. 

“Come here, boy,” he murmured, and immediately, Parrish crawled over to him, and sat before him. 

“Look at me,” a command this time, though still uttered in a soft voice. Parrish's head snapped up, and his eyes found Peter's. “Good boy,” he said. “Do you want us to continue?”

Parrish nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Parrish's voice sounded sure, his eyes were clear, and while his posture still showed his submission, Peter could see that he was 100% in the here and now. That was good. It would make their negotiations much easier. 

He leaned back a little. “Okay. Why did you just strip without me telling you to do so?”

Parrish looked a little confused. “Because it's what I normally do, Sir. I'm getting ready for my master.”

It sounded so matter-of-fact that Peter couldn't be angry with him. He simply nodded, and said, “Normally, I'll tell you when you have to strip, and when you have to kneel, okay?” 

“But back to the matters at hand,” Peter continued, “What do you want?”, and before Parrish even got the chance to open his mouth, he held up one hand. “The truth, please, and don't compare me to your other doms again in that over-active brain of yours.”

Parrish smiled a little at that, and Peter relaxed. 

“I want someone older with authority to take control over me. To tell me what to do, when to do it, and maybe even how to do it. I want to be taken apart, and be put together again. I can take some pain, I *want* some pain. But I also need to be able to go to work the next day. I want to make you feel good. And I want you to take pleasure in my body. I want you to use me but not belittle me. I love to be marked but nothing permanent, so no knife play or blood play.”

Parrish stopped, and took a deep breath, and added, almost as an afterthought, “Sir.”

For a moment Peter was speechless. Not because he never thought that the usually pretty reserved young man could talk so much but because what Parrish needed was exactly what Peter wanted to give. But of course these were only the basic outlines. Time to go into details. Peter patted his knee, and was satisfied to see Parrish crawl that little bit closer until he could reach out, grab the dark hair, and gently pull the head to him to rest against his knee. 

“That was very honest of you, boy, I appreciate that. Now let's see. I name a few things that bring me pleasure and you will tell me honestly if it's something you enjoy, too.”

He could feel Parrish nod. Almost absentmindedly, he stroked through the dark hair of his pet for the night. 

“Orgasm denial?”

Nod. 

“Nipple clamps?”

Nod. 

“Blind fold?”

Nod. 

“Cock ring and anal plugs?”

Nod. Oh this was going to be fun. 

“Flogger?”

Nod. 

“Cane?”

A little hesitation, then a head shake No. Interesting. Whoever had hurt him badly back then had apparently been a little too fond of the cane. 

“Whip?”

Nod. 

“Breath play?”

Head shake. Good. He wasn't too fond of it either but would have given his sub what he needed. 

“Anything else you might have forgotten before we play?”

Head shake. 

“Good.” 

He didn't give Parrish much of a chance after that, just pulled him up and kissed him for the first time since he had dragged him from the dance floor. Parrish seemed to melt against him, opened his mouth eagerly, and played with his tongue. Gasping, Peter finally broke the kiss, and pushed him down again. 

“Where were we before, boy?” he asked with a grin, and his boy immediately understood, opened his fly again, and sucked his hard cock back into his throat. 

~*~

It was like in one of the stories he loved to read. A gentle yet firm dom that asked him what he wanted and to give him exactly that. A give and take. He had never thought he might ever find one like that. 

Now here he was, on his knees in front of Peter Hale, looking up into his pale blue eyes, sucking his cock, and praying that he did everything right. 

On the other hand … 

Doing everything right meant eventually no punishment. And he loved being spanked. All those questions from earlier had left him wanting. Wanting to feel the sharp bite of some clamps around his nipples. The steady push of a plug into his ass, filling him up so good. The tight grip of a cock ring, making it impossible for him to find release. And the little sting he'd feel the day after, reminding him in all the good ways what he'd done the night before. While thinking about this, he hadn't realized that his blow job had become sloppy, unfocused, until Hale gripped his hair a little tighter, making him wince, pulling him off. 

“I think you don't appreciate the gift I give you in letting you suck me off, boy,” he growled, and a pleasant shiver run over Jordan's skin. “I guess I have to remind you who you belong to, and what you owe to me.”

His master took his chin between his thumb and index finger, and murmured, “But because you're new to me as a pet, I'll be so kind to give you a choice.”

Jordan's heart began to race. 

“One,” Hale said, “I can take you over my knee and give you a good, old-fashioned spanking with my hand. I'll make it twenty, to remind you to concentrate more on your master and his needs. While you're over my lap, you may beg, sob, cry … whatever you want, as loud as you want.” 

Jordan swallowed, his throat suddenly desert dry. 

“Two,” his master continued, “you can go over there to the horse, and I'll give you ten with the paddle. Same reason but this time you have to remain quiet, and take each blow with silence. You make a noise, I'll add a few blows. You have ten seconds to think about it, boy.”

His thoughts were stumbling over each other. Hand? Paddle? Ten? Twenty? Either way he chose, he would feel it tomorrow. And over his master's lap sounded so good right now, that he blurted out after what couldn't have been more than three or four seconds, “Your lap, please, Master, Sir.”

With a smile, Hale pulled him up, and kissed him again. “Good boy. I was hoping you'd say that. Come up, then, and over my lap.”

~*~

Sheesh, this man seemed almost too good to be true, Peter thought, as Parrish – he still didn't know his first name – hastily clambered onto the bed, and started to drape himself over his lap. But Peter stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Wait, boy. First of all, I want you to undress me.”

Parrish stared at him for a moment, then he slowly got up again, and reached out his hands. Button after button he opened the shirt, and pushed it over his shoulders until it slid with a soft whisper to the floor. Peter could hear his boy's heartbeat pick up, and had to hide a smile at that reaction. The fly of his jeans was already opened, so Parrish knelt down again, and dragged his jeans down until they pooled around his feet, and he only had to step out of it. 

Not in the least self – conscious about his body, Peter sat down again on the bed, and patted his thighs. “Come on, boy,” he smiled. Naked like the day he was born, Parrish spread himself over his thighs for him to do with him what he wanted to do. 

Slowly, he caressed one of the muscular globes of the younger man's ass, felt the shiver, could see the goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“Count,” he ordered, and even before his boy could nod, he let his hand come down and smacked the right cheek. 

“One,” Parrish gasped. 

~slap~

“Two!” 

Again, Peter stroked over the soft flesh, enjoying the tender skin. Then he rose his hand again. 

“Three!” Almost a moan this time. 

Peter smiled, and let the next few slaps rain down in fast order. Four, five, six, seven, eight. 

When he reached nine, he could feel Parrish rocking gently against his thigh, and had to suppress a grin. Naughty boy. 

“Nine,” the man gritted out, and Peter caressed again the now heated flesh. He could smell the arousal that wafted off his boy, and his inner wolf howled in satisfaction. 

“Do you want to come, boy?” he purred into the young man's ear, and smiled at the hissed, “Yes, Sir, please, Master, let me come.”

“I'll tell you what,” Peter murmured, “when you manage to behave yourself until I reach twenty, I'll fuck you, and you can come whenever you want. If you come before that … I'll plug you up, strap you to the cross, and give you a taste of the flogger until you beg for mercy. And I won't let you come until I decide when.”

All the while he stroked the young man's back as if he was a big cat. The cock against his thigh seemed to get even harder at the prospect of not being allowed to come. One more little thrust, and then the body on his lap stilled. 

“Yes, Sir,” came finally the whispered reply. 

And he knew then that his boy would never manage *not* to come. And that thought made his own cock swell to the point that it almost hurt. He was glad that he had jerked off before he'd come to the club. It took the pressure off, and made a little control and restraint that much easier for him. He raised his hand, and delivered another slap. 

“Eleven,” moaned Parrish. 

“Oh no, boy,” Peter muttered, “that was number ten. You'll get five more for not paying attention.”

The Deputy groaned at that. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

Oh, you will be, Peter thought, and delivered number eleven and twelve in quick succession. The slow thrusts began again, as his boy counted obediently the numbers. They reached number twenty-two, and Peter was almost impressed with the young man's self-control, when the Deputy suddenly gasped, stilled, and Peter could feel the warmth of his release on his skin. 

And he smiled. 

~*~

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Jordan thought, as he came with a gasp against his masters thigh. He tried to form a coherent sentence but he got the feeling that he had not only shot out his semen but also a few of his brain cells. 

“I'm sorry, master,” he managed after a few panted breaths, embarrassed without end. 

He'd done it. He'd come without permission. And the results would be painful, he knew that. And yet there was a part of him that looked forward to these results. That wanted, and almost needed these results. 

“Oh boy,” Hale sighed, sounding slightly disappointed, “I really thought you'd be better. You only had three more slaps to go.”

But when Jordan listened closer, he could hear more than the disappointment. He could hear excitement. And despite his shame, he felt a little giddy. Silently, his master finished his set of twenty-five slaps with Jordan counting breathlessly, and kept him on his lap afterward. Stroking his heated flesh, lingering a little over his hole which spasmed in anticipation. 

“Hm, you like that?” his master murmured, stroking again over the entrance to his body. 

“Ye, Sir,” Jordan moaned, trying to push his hips up, to get the finger teasing him inside his body. And yelped, when he got another slap on his sensitive ass. 

“Now boy, don't be greedy. Remember: you had your chance. Now it's my turn to play with you. And whether or not you're allowed to come a second time tonight is totally up to me.”

Jordan could feel Peter leaning over his body, and then he shivered when the older man breathed into his ear, “You're mine for tonight. My boy. Mine to play with. Right?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jordan sighed happily. 

“Good boy,” Hale patted him gently, and then he pushed him off his lap. “Okay, boy, get your nicely tanned ass over to the horse. I can remember that I promised you a plug and a whipping.”

His knees were weak when he finally managed to push himself upright and walk to the horse. He was almost glad that he could slump down again the moment he reached it. Despite the sweet lassitude that came with his orgasm, his senses were on high alert, so he could pinpoint the exact moment that Hale got up, too, and slowly walked over to him. So the hand on his ass didn't startle him that much. He just sighed in happy anticipation. 

“You're such a good boy,” Hale – his master murmured. Jordan keened under that praise, and then he winced when a little slap made him highly aware of his backside's condition. “So willing,” his master continued, “so obedient. We'll have so much fun tonight. But first things first … I promised you a plug.”

Cold lube dribbled without warning between his ass cheeks, and Jordan yelped. Then he moaned when first one, then two fingers pushed the lube into his hole, pressing deep inside until they found his prostate, and he saw little fireworks explode inside his head. He groaned, and sighed in pleasure when two fingers became three. And then it came. The hard press of plastic, stiff, unyielding, cold, pressing inside, making room inside his ass, opening him up wider and wider, until he thought he couldn't take it any more. Then suddenly it slipped in, his muscle closing around a much smaller piece, keeping the plug in place. 

A plug that was long enough and big enough to nudge at his prostate with every single movement he made. He panted through the fog of arousal, through the slight, lingering pain that only slowly receded. 

Only then did he feel the gentle strokes across his head, heard the softly murmured, “There you go, that's a good boy.”

He smiled, and relaxed slightly, starting to get used to the feeling of being so amazingly full, when a slap on his ass made him cry out. 

“Don't get too comfortable, boy,” Hale said easily, “what else did I promise you?”

Jordan tried to think through the fog of lust and submission. “A whipping, Sir,” he finally managed to gasp out. 

“Very good,” his master praised him, “then come on, let's get you over to the cross.”

Carefully, very, very carefully, Jordan straightened up, and gingerly walked over to the St. Andrew's cross. With every step he took, the plug brushed over his prostate, and when he reached his goal, his cock was as hard as it was before and his knees as weak as jell-o.

Efficiently, his master fastened the cuffs around his wrists but instead of turning him around with his back to him, he chained him to the cross with his face to the room. Only barely Jordan managed to keep his question in. This wasn't his usual position on the cross. He was promised a whipping and he hoped like hell that his master would chose his back. And whipping on the front hurt like a bitch, and it left marks that he wouldn't be able to hide completely come tomorrow morning. 

Clever fingers pinched his nipples and he gasped. 

“Relax, boy,” Peter purred, “you'll get your whipping. But first I wanna play a little bit with you. We talked about clamps, and cock rings, as you might remember. I haven't forgotten that.”

Jordan dropped his chin on his chest and groaned. 

~*~

His boy groaned but it wasn't an unhappy sound. 

Quite the contrary. Peter smiled, walked over the board on the wall, and chose his toys very carefully. The boy had been hurt before. Badly. That he was sure of. That he nonetheless decided to give himself over into his, Peter's, hands showed a sign of trust that he wasn't willing to disappoint. 

His gaze moved over the toys. There were clamps that worked like ordinary clothespins but had little teeth that wouldn't draw blood but hurt like hell when administering them. On the other hand they would feel amazing the moment they came off. And there were clamps that worked like tweezers. They'd diminish the blood flow, would barely be noticeable as long as they were on but the moment they came off and the blood flowed freely again, his boy would writhe in agony. 

He finally decided on some tweezers style clamps. He wanted his boy to shout out his relieve when he would allow him to come a second time that night. And unfastening the clamps in just the right moment would trigger exactly that. 

Now on to the cock ring. He didn't want his boy to embarrass himself another time this night by coming *again* without his permission. He chose a soft leather ring that would be easy to strap on, and just as easy to remove. 

When he turned around he smiled at the weary expression on his sub's face. At the end of the night, this expression would be one of trust and loyalty, he would made sure of it. He strolled closer to his boy – damn, he still didn't know the boy's first name – and showed him his chosen toys. 

“I'd ask if you're okay with that,” he mentioned lightly, while opening the first clamp, “if it'd interest me in any way.” The clamp closed around the right nipple, and the young man hissed slightly. The second nipple followed, and Peter fastened the chain between them. Then he pulled lightly on it, enjoying the moan that this gesture evoked. “You like that, right?” he murmured, and the Deputy nodded. 

“Very much, Sir,” he answered breathlessly. 

“Good boy,” Peter said again, pressing his lips to the younger man's shoulder, kissing it softly before he bit down. 

Hard. 

The young man screamed in pain but Peter felt the rock hard cock twitch against his leg, could hear the underlying pleasure, and licked the bitten spot gently. 

The cock ring slid on easily, and the clasp closed with a quiet 'snick'. Another little tog on the chain, and Peter saw the precum slowly drip from his boy's cock. He smirked. Perfect. He undid the handcuffs, and when the young man frowned, he gave him a quick kiss. “Turn around, boy, now comes the whip.”

Peter almost laughed at how eagerly the Deputy turned around but didn't. Maybe later – much later – when they were more comfortable with each other he could laugh at such a gesture, and could be sure that his boy would understand that he wouldn't be ridiculed. 

The leather cuffs closed snugly around the strong wrists and ankles, and then Peter just stood there for a moment, admiring his work. 

His boy's ass was still slightly red but not overly so. Between his cheeks he could see a glimpse of the plug that rested still deep inside of him, his arms and legs were spread but not too much so there wouldn't be too much strain on the shoulders. The Deputy kept himself fit not because of vanity but of necessity. In his line of work being fit could literally safe the young man's life. And yet he wasn't bulky. Peter liked that. 

Very much. 

His cock did, too. 

The flawless skin of his boy was an empty canvas and Peter could paint it the way he liked it. He saw the dark bruise where he had bitten him earlier, stepped closer and pressed another kiss to the skin. Then he murmured, “Ready, boy?”

When the younger man nodded, Peter grabbed the flogger from a nearby table, swung it a few times, and finally turned back to his boy. 

The fun was about to begin. 

~*~

“Ready, boy?”

This question, accompanied by an almost tender kiss to the love bite the older man had left on him earlier, made his knees go week. 

Again. 

It was this difference between spanking him for being disobedient, and comforting him afterward. The zigzag between kissing him senseless, and pushing a plug up his ass that felt the size of a fist. 

He nodded helplessly, already almost addicted to this feeling of being unable to detect what was to come next. Of letting himself fall into the hands of his master, of his dom. Seconds later he felt the harsh bite of the whip. He screamed, mostly in surprise when the second whip followed quickly. Then the third, and the fourth. 

His master got into a rhythm, and Jordan's endorphins kicked in big time. He began to float, heard his master voice his appreciation, felt his hands on his body, could hear his voice, ordering him to count. 

And he did. Five, six, seven. Little moans and shouts escaped him, and when they reached fifteen his master stopped, 

“You're so good, my boy, so good,” Hale murmured, “so good that I think I might fuck you now. Would you want that, boy? Would you want me to take you, fuck you?”

“Yes, Sir, please,” Jordan moaned, longing to feel the hard flesh he'd had in his mouth earlier this night inside his body. Hissing when soft hands stroked over the heated flesh on his back. 

“You're so beautiful, my boy, so pure. One day we'll have to try out how you react to wax.”

Jordan wasn't sure whether his dom was talking to him or to himself. His mind was stuck on 'one day'. As in 'we're going to repeat this'. He could feel himself finally falling completely. Gave himself entirely over to the man behind him. 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped deeply into his subspace.

~*~

Peter could pinpoint the exact moment that his boy finally surrendered. Eyes closed, a deep breath, then another, and when he opened his eyes again, Peter could see the devoted expression he had worked for the whole evening. 

“Master,” the young man breathed, and Peter gently took his face.

“I'm here, my boy,” he murmured, kissing him gently, drinking in his surrender like the finest wine. “What do you want, hm?”

“Fuck me, Master, please,” the bound man almost whimpered, and Peter smiled. 

“Beg me nicely, boy,” he whispered, “and when I think you deserve it, I might give you what you need.”

“Please, Sir, please, please, fuck me, use me, please, master, please,” the Deputy hastily replied, and gasped when Peter began to play with his plug. He mumbled some other meaningless words, interlaced with moans, grunts, gasps as Peter pulled the plug out and pushed it back in. Somewhere in the thrown together sentences he heard something like 'fuck me like you mean it', and that was the final straw. 

Hell, yeah, he meant it. Meant it with every single sub he was together. When he played a scene, his sub was the only important thing in the whole world for him, and the cute Deputy with the soulful eyes, and the almost palpable wish to surrender was no exception. 

With a twist of his wrist, he pulled the plug out completely, dropped it behind him – he would care for it later – lubed his dick, and in one smooth motion he was buried to the hilt in his boy. 

The sigh that followed his intrusion was one of utter happiness and relief, as was the quietly muttered, “Thank you, Sir, thank you.”

“You're welcome, my sweet boy,” Peter said quietly, before he began to withdraw and thrust back in again. And again. And again. Until he found a rhythm. Until he could hear the moans from his boy getting louder and louder. He reached around him, and gripped his dick. It was hard, and hot to the touch. Peter felt the leather of the cock ring, keeping the man on the cross from coming. He began to stroke the cock in his hand fast and hard, rushing his sub to the brink of orgasm only to stop him in the last moment. He loved to feel him tighten around him, loved the heady feeling of control he had over this man. Loved to hear him beg, and whimper, and moan. 

With every thrust into his boy's willing body, Peter felt himself get closer and closer to his own climax. He pressed his face against the soft skin, felt it under his lips, and without thinking he bit. A grunt, and a moaned, “Please, Master, let me come,” was the response he got. He kept his teeth human, but started to suck aggressively, and knew that there would be a big bruise come morning. 

It was easy keeping his wolf in check when there were no real emotions involved. But as he fucked the pliant body of the young Deputy, he knew, he just *knew* that this wasn't a one-nighter for him. That he *had* to see him again. Needed to see him again. Needed to take him into subspace again. He wanted him to suck his cock until he came into that talented mouth while those clear green eyes looked up at him. He wanted to see his skin turn red when hot, molten wax dripped down on it. Wanted to know how often he could make the young man come in one night. Being a werewolf and being able to hear, see, and smell things that a normal dom never could, was definitely a bonus, and would help him to fulfill the deepest desire of this sub. 

He also knew that with every encounter it would be more difficult to hold the wolf back. 

He pushed harder and harder, bit the shoulder until the skin almost broke, and when he heard his boy wince in a mixture of pain and pleasure, he finally pulled his mouth away, and came with a roar deep inside his sub. 

Panting, it took him a few moments to gather his wits again. A few moments in which he stood behind his sub, with his hands shaking and his knees trembling, and only his werewolf strength was responsible that he managed to stay upright. A whimpering sound made him aware of the fact that his boy still hadn't come, and meanwhile had to be close to bursting. 

He kept his still half – hard cock inside his sub, while he reached around him with both hands. Opening the cock ring with one hand, and stroking him with the other, he murmured gently, “You can come for me, my beautiful boy. You can come the moment I'll remove the clamps, okay?” 

He waited for his sub to nod, then he took hold of the clamps, and whispered, “Take a deep breath, boy,” and the moment he did, Peter pulled the clamps at one push off. 

The Deputy came with a sobbing shout, spilling his seed all over the cross, over Peter's hands, from where it slowly dripped down to the floor. 

Then he collapsed, only the cuffs around his wrists saved him from dropping to the floor in a boneless heap. Peter caught him easily, having regained some of his own strength, unbuckled the wrists and ankles, and carried him over to the bed. 

Carefully, he laid him down, climbed in right behind him, drew a blanket over them both, and held the shaking man in his arms, whispering nonsense in his hair, helping him slowly to come back to himself. 

~*~

Jordan felt like floating. Like flying. 

It took him a while to realize he was gently held against a strong body. That a hand stroked through his hair, and a soft voice mumbled nonsense into his ear. He tried to get up but found himself unable to even open his eyes. 

The hand held him down effortlessly. “Ssh, stay there, Deputy. Everything's alright. It just might take you a while to come back to the real world.”

He could feel a bottle against his mouth, and without hesitation he drank. Cool, refreshing water poured down his throat, and once he was finished, he sighed in contentment. 

It was … well, not quite new to him, but he rarely met a dom who would take the time to provide the aftercare he craved. His thoughts went back to one who had even called him 'clingy' just because he wanted to be held for a few minutes once he had come. He shuddered, and the strong arms around him tightened. “What?” the man holding him asked quietly. “Thinking about other doms again?”

But this time his voice didn't sound mad, he sounded more amused. Relaxed. And Jordan dared to nod. 

“I never imagined you would be like that,” he mumbled shyly. 

Surprisingly enough, the arms only pulled him a little closer. “Listen, Deputy,” Hale began, and Jordan interrupted him. “Jordan.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Jordan. Not Deputy.” 

“Okay then, listen, Jordan. We have to talk. I want to see you again, I guess you know that by now. But we have to discuss that when you're completely back with me. Right now you're still riding so high on endorphins, it's a wonder you can even talk coherently. So, relax. I'll stay with you, okay? And later, we'll talk.”

“Okay, Sir,” Jordan mumbled, and cuddled closer into the older man's arms. 

“It's Peter when we're not in a scene,” he heard a grumbled reply, and smiled. 

'I want to see you again.' Those words were ringing in his ears when he closed his eyes, and let exhaustion carry him away. 

The end


End file.
